Dear Diary,

So much has happened, and I have not had time to write. I have now met four seishi—Chiriko, Tomite, Nuriko, and another whom Chiriko-chan called Chichiri. So many of Suzaku's...! They have all been very attentive and kind, although Chichiri-san has not yet taken the time to tell me or Chiriko-chan why so many seishi have been reincarnated at once and where he is taking us that will be safe. He has gone to rescue Tomite and Nuriko, though, so I am not faulting him. It would be worse to waste time.

I confess that I am a little worried about my own seishi. I called for them to come to me, and now I will not be there for them when they arrive. It is entirely possible that they are all wandering about in Berlin, looking for me. I hope that they find each other.

I am also worried about my father and mother. Herr Fritzche made frightening implications.

At least I am not alone now; Chiriko-chan is here, too. But we have said as much as there is to say and he has gone off to think alone. I do not think that he is quite himself. He seems to have been injured and to have lost most of his clothing. I do hope that Tomite and Nuriko will not have suffered anything worse than what I have already seen.

It is very boring here. I am glad that I remembered, throughout everything that has happened, to keep a tight hold on my overnight bag. You, dear diary, have been packed inside it. However, writing is difficult in the void. Everything seems to move so slowly; my eyes keep wanting to drift shut, and my hand keeps floating off the page.

~

Oh, diary! Since writing the above, something awful has happened. I've never felt anything so painful in my entire life, and I have only just now recovered. There was a terrible jerking feeling in my tummy, like somebody had hooked me with a fishhook and tugged backwards. There was pain for a while—it might have been an instant or an hour; one can't tell time in this place—and then I felt something blink out, like a snuffed candle. I feel emptier, off-kilter.

It was Tokaki. I'm sure of it.

He must be in Berlin. I should have expected that he would arrive first. I don't know what to do.

It sounds awful to say, but at least there is one good thing about this: it seems that I now know some things that I did not before. My seishi heard me call for them and are on their separate ways to Berlin. I will feel if they are mortally wounded. Six of my seishi are not dead.

Dead! It's such an awful, final-sounding word.

Maybe I am wrong, but... I will ask Chiriko-chan about it. It is possible that he has felt such a feeling before and knows what it means.

I do hope Chichiri-san returns soon with the others. I would like to find somewhere to rest.

Love,
Suzuno

Dear Diary,

Haha mentioned this morning that I ought to see more of the city. We have been here for nearly eight months, and I have not been to Museum Island, to the Berliner Philharmonie, or to the Botanical Gardens. This did not bother me until today—I'm much more comfortable at home with Haha—but if she thinks it's best, perhaps I should make an effort.

There is a rally tomorrow evening that Haha suggested I attend. I don't particularly like political things, but I don't want to displease her. I know she is disappointed that I am so shy. At any rate, it will be a good opportunity to practice my German. I will make sure to sit someplace safe and out of the way, so that I don't get trampled if the crowd gets excited. I went to a rally with Chichi once, and things got a little out of control. I was glad he was there.

This afternoon, I went to the Zoological Garden. I had to go by myself, since Haha had an engagement with one of her friends. I rather think that she made it at the last minute, though; she seemed awfully eager to get me out of the house on my own. I think that she is worried about the fact that I'm still single. I don't know what to say to her. Chichi hasn't told her about the book.

It was awkward to be alone. Other people seemed to be in couples or in families, and the single people at least had sketchbooks or cameras to make them look busy. I bought ice cream—even though it's really too cold to enjoy it—and sat on a park bench by the elephants. I've always liked elephants better than anything else. No one spoke to me, except, of course, the people selling the tickets and the ice cream. I understood them perfectly well, and I didn't make any mistakes with my German.

It's funny, living in a place, yet hardly ever speaking its language. At home, we speak Japanese, and all of my parents' friends speak Japanese, too. I like Berlin—that is, I think it is very beautiful—but I feel alien here. I wonder if I will ever feel at home.

I read in a book by Karl Scheffler that Berlin ist eine Stadt, verdammt dazu, ewig zu werden, niemals su sein. (“Berlin is a city condemned forever to becoming and never being.”) That is how I feel here. I am learning and meeting new people and seeing new things, but none of them seem to mesh with my soul.

Love,
Suzuno